


Cutting the Head Off Ouroboros

by Hambone



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hemipenis, Impregnation, Interspecies, Large Cock, Large insertions, M/M, Mild Cum Inflation, Multiple Orgasms, Painful Sex, Penile Spines, Prolapse, Size Difference, Squirting, Trans Character, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28978869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: Oscar consecrates himself to the path of Dark, unknowing of what that will entail.
Relationships: Darkstalker Kaathe/Oscar of Astora
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Cutting the Head Off Ouroboros

**Author's Note:**

> Oscar is legit my favorite Dark Souls character but I never write for him because I want it to be perfect, I suppose? I desperately want more of him, though! So naturally I wrote a thing literally no one asked for. GardeniaAWarmth wrote a fic with some Kaathe/Oscar content and the idea was so good that it stuck with me so I wrote my own primordial serpent fuck. Dark Lord ending best ending.
> 
> Enjoy!

“You will give birth to the new age. Our age of Dark.”

Oscar knelt into the blackness, head bowed.

“You are the true Dark Lord. The patron of all that will come after.”

He breathed in the cold air of the Abyss through his nose. It had no scent to it at all, though he could smell the creature before him, tall and ancient. It was a smell like death, and life, the smell of the cycles, birth, survival, consumption.

“Are you prepared to take upon you this mantle, no matter its weight?”

“I am.”

The other Undead had chosen to serve the Gods. They had traveled together long, seemingly treading the same path, but when Oscar had found them before the Lordvessel, and they had spoken, he realized he could follow them no further. And follow was the correct term. One step behind, never quite as strong, quite as clever, no matter his great feats, the monsters and demons that had laid slain before him. _Then you are not the Chosen one_ , the other had said, and they had fought, and Oscar had been struck down, but he had not lost himself. He’d come close indeed, mulling over the failure of his journey as he lay there, bleeding in the ashes of the First Flame, but then a voice was recalled to him, one as deep and as primeval as Sage Frampt’s, but with an entirely different message, and he had resolved himself, before fading. It was not over yet.

“Remove thy coverings, let the Dark see your true form.”

Oscar did as he was told, unbuckling and untying his belongings one by one until he stood naked before Darkstalker Kaathe. The serpent made a low growling sound, gnashing his teeth.

“I will brand you with the sign of your sovereignty,” Kaathe continued, “impress unto you the first of many tasks you will carry out in your kingdom.”

From the shadows came a hissing sound, and shapes moved quickly. Oscar turned around, his feet sticking to the ground as if it were coated in blood. It was the coils of a great snake, of Kaathe himself, more of him than Oscar had ever seen prior, though he still could not discern from whence they came, nor how they connected to his grinning head, still bobbing alone. They closed in upon him, and Oscar forced himself to relax as the soft scales brushed against his skin.

“Entrust thy flesh to me.”

Slowly, the coils encircled him, beneath his arms, around his legs, lifting him into the air. He was uncomfortable, but not harmed, willing his heart to beat slowly. Kaathe wound around his hands and feet with a dexterity that seemed impossible for a being of his size, holding him spread eagle. So surrounded was he by the flexing lengths of the serpent that Oscar could no longer see anything but them, jerking with surprise when another coil lifted up between his legs, seating his naked ass upon it. An instinct stirred in Oscar, urging him to push back, but by now Kaathe had him so tightly bound that he could not move away from it, his thighs flexing a few times in their encasement with no result but his own exhaustion. Kaathe barely seemed to notice.

“You will play the role of both father and mother to the next generation of humans,” he said, something that Oscar could not understand, but dreaded the sound of, “Our King of many heirs. With their help you will topple the fair folk’s cruel regime. Trust, my Lord.”

He did not truly begin to panic until the coil between his legs slid back further and twisted fully around, revealing the opening vent along its underside, a pair of deep red, cruel looking phalluses already beginning to engorge and extend from within. Kaathe ceased his movements when they were aligned close enough between Oscar’s legs that he could feel their heat. Chest heaving, he urged his hips away, but the tightness with which he was restrained made this pathetically ineffective of a move. Already the protruding tips of Kaathe’s cocks, from what he could make out, where larger than his own clenched fist each, and as they slid fourth they appeared to be ringed with rows of odd, ugly protuberances, not quite spines, not quite warts. He felt sick.

“This isn’t-!”

“You will serve your purpose as agreed,” Kaathe rasped, somewhere in the blackness, his voice shaking through his coils and into Oscar. He tried to squeeze his legs shut, even wrapped around the great width of the serpent’s body, but the shifting mass of body that surrounded him clung to his legs, his ankles, holding his legs wider still, til the open slit finally rolled close enough to brush his cunt with the angular head of one prick. He thrashed, but only succeeded in tiring himself, his muscles straining against truly immovable force. Kaathe felt hot and slimy, almost tingling where it brushed his inner thighs, an unnatural and volatile being.

“Do you recant your wishes? Was your desire for purpose really so shallow as to balk at the first true adversity you face?”

Oscar truly could not say, could hardly focus on the words as he gazed between his legs at the twisted sex that grew there. They were now beginning to sprout, at least half the length of his forearm, peppered with discolored, inhuman texture. He twisted in Kaathe’s hold, but his pelvis remained still, pinned, as the closest of Kaathe’s cocks brushed his vulva slowly. It felt as electric as it had against his leg. Over time, long before he had awoken with the little black hole in his shoulder, the magic Oscar had requested had changed his body, given him to himself as he desired. He hadn't cared much to change what lay between his legs – it didn't seem important, but it had evolved some along with his form, over the years. In particular his clitoris had lengthened and swelled some until it resembled a handsome little cock at the top of his cut, and this the awful prod of Kaathe touched first.

“No,” Oscar breathed, as an answer, and a plea. Kaathe’s wet prick slid against the folds of his cunt, across the bowed head of his clit, bringing them flush together. He twitched, grunting in discomfort, unable to do anything as Kaathe began to rub their sexes together. The shape was anything but human, yet it fit oddly well against him, the flat, pointed head spreading his labia open wide, slickly kissing his whole groin. Kaathe’s massive size did not affect his ability to move gently at all, allowing Oscar to feel every ridge and spine in gruesomely slow detail, each one sending shocks through his abdomen as they ground over his sensitive folds, catching the hood of his clit and sliding it back every so often, just enough to expose the head.

“No,” repeated Kaathe, “you will not abandon your post. I knew you were the one.”

Still, Oscar squirmed, trying to get away as Kaathe’s cocks continued to grow against him. It felt awful, the way pleasure lanced up his backbone, the fear of it writhing in his stomach. Their movements had quickly drawn wetness, though from Kaathe or his own cut Oscar could not tell. Arousal engorged him, reddening his vulva, his clitoris growing erect. He could do nothing to defend himself, fists balling, lost in the black mass of Kaathe somewhere. It was true, that he did want, as Kaathe had said. Oscar had needed this, purpose, for so long now he was certain he had been born with the hole inside him. It ached, the loss of self, of his past and his future, as hollowing did to all men, and what he had been offered was too tantalizing a truth for him to ignore, but even still, even knowing that, the sight of twin serpentine pricks rising before him was hard to stomach. Fear clawed at his mind, telling him, begging him to see that it was a lie, but he couldn't accept that. He would have fought for his life if he were free, but he wanted to be trapped, the discord between his body and mind and heart unresolvable and therefore unacknowledged.

“From your womb will come the first humans since before time who are truly free, those unshackled by fate.”

“I cant.”

He shuddered uncontrollably as Kaathe rubbed him, harsh and punishing, for his dissent. He had not meant it as a complaint – humans were only born with so few eggs inside them. Oscar had grown barren centuries ago.

“You will.”

The fold between his legs buckled down, repositioning itself, and Oscar recoiled as the head prodded firmly at his cunt. He had not been penetrated in years, not by another person, and while their coming together had gotten him fairly wet he was in no way prepared for something of that size. He bucked his hips, but only succeeded in mashing them together lewdly, obscenely, squelching as beads of dark liquid oozed from the tip of Kaathe’s length. They almost burned where they touched, the tingling enhanced by contact with his more delicate areas, already overstimulating. Though it was near pitch black, Oscar could see it smearing along his inner thighs, over his cunt, and his stomach turned, empty as it had been for longer than he could recall.

“You’ll kill me-!”

Kaathe no longer responded to him, forcing up against him with another hard push. This time it smacked against him like a fist, trying to force entry, knocking the wind from Oscar’s lungs. He did not have time to collect it before Kaathe tried again, and again, battering his cunt painfully. When he did recall how to breathe it was only to cry out in pain.

“Stop!”

Another stroke made his voice go high and thin.

“Stop, please! You wont, let me,” he struggled to stay calm enough to speak.

“You won’t get it in that way!”

There was no response, but Kaathe paused. Oscar breathed in harshly, drool bubbling at the corners of his lips. He felt raw, his vulva grown dark red and bruised looking, throbbing with each heartbeat. Now that the blunt force was no longer beating him into submission, the sting bloomed outwards, and with it heat.

“Just, just hold it still. I can… do it myself.”

He was not actually sure that he could, but if the serpent continued to try and jam himself in that way, Oscar was sure he would not survive it. His throat was tight, and dry, no matter how much he swallowed. Kaathe’s phallus sat eager below him, waiting, and he tried, with what limited movement he had, to angle himself atop it. Forcing himself to breathe as steadily as he could, Oscar began to rub his sore sex against the head, trying to work up some degree of arousal again.

“Yes, take your future into your own hands, our Dark Lord.”

The burn crept up inside him until it ached throughout his entire groin. Oscar’s hips trembled with the effort of rolling himself into Kaathe without further injuring himself, but it seemed pointless – no matter how carefully he proceeded, Kaathe’s massive phallus would tear him apart. The punishment had softened him, tenderized him, ripe and swollen. While the serpent had only spoken truths to him before, but Oscar still could not see how he was meant to survive this, much less bear a child as he had said. He could not even fathom the concept. He had not even seen a child in longer than he could recall. He would not know how to care for one. That was not even what frightened him the most.

The knobby tip rolled against his vulva in a manner that was almost properly pleasurable, may have been, if that were all it was. As he willed himself to relax more, Oscar’s body opened up some, used to taking pain, used to being forced open, even if not to this extent. All the monsters, the mindless hollows whom had bested him before, or come across him in a moment of weakness, who had forced their rotten fingers and slimy tongues and ridged cocks inside him, this was nothing like that, but they had prepared him, somewhat. He tried to think of a moment of past intimacy, something to take his mind away from the moment, but he could not. Even when he masturbated these days, jacking his thick clitcock off in a darkened corner somewhere between battles, he thought of nothing. Kaathe’s cock began to dip, ever so slightly, against his hole with each pass.

He pressed his cunt down and watched his labia spread around the head, dwarfing him in size. Kaathe ground up into him, and Oscar felt, with a sudden jolt of pain, the coils holding his arms and legs loosen, dropping him onto the length. Before he could even struggle, his body was restrained again, dragged down, and the pressure returned, not in quick bursts but in one singular, fierce push.

“W-wait-!”

Choking on his words, Oscar felt his flesh buckle, beginning to give. Kaathe forced his way deeper, the fat head squeezing in little by little, firm but rubbery enough to manage. It burned, even worse than the beating had, but he was again fully immobilized and could do nothing but take it. Kaathe was still leaking that dark fluid, and it felt even stranger inside of him, like an itch beginning to form, one he was afraid to scratch. He could have cried out again, told Kaathe that he would break, begged to be freed, conceded that his will was gone, but he didn’t. He shook, and he gulped down sticky, black air, and his body gave.

The head of Kaathe’s cock popped inside all at once. Oscar screamed, without an echo. It was flared and ridged and it dug out his cunt, feeling even wider than it had looked, and Kaathe did not cease his assault. Now that the hardest part was over, he tugged Oscar down over himself. It took only seconds for him to reach the back of Oscar’s vagina, bullying past every defense he had, hitting the mouth of his cervix with enough force to knock the wind out of him. The burn of being stretched this far was like nothing Oscar had known prior, even in his darkest moments, even when blades cut him to the bone. He was not broken, but the intimacy, the shame of such a pain, was something he had not fathomed prior. No amount of desire for acknowledgment could soften that blow.

The nodules ringing Kaathe’s cock ran along the outside of his vulva, nudging at his hardening clitoris. Each time they bumped the head he jerked in Kaathe’s grasp, tender and oversensitive. His muscles spasmed uncontrollably, trying to push out the intrusion, but in response Kaathe’s cock began to sink deeper. Oscar’s head dropped to his chest, choking as his womb was forced back, up into his body, crushed by the sheer size, and still he did not stop. Oscar’s hands balled so tightly his fingernails bit into his palms, his toes curling, breathless as Kaathe deformed him with his cock, stretching him beyond the limits of what he believed was possible, forcing himself in so deeply Oscar’s stomach bulged with it. He thought he would die. He thought he should die. He might have been bleeding, but he could hardly tell around the slick, viscous slime of Kaathe. When he finally stopped, he was not close to being fully sheathed, and he still felt as if it were growing inside.

Then it began to recede, and this was almost worse. Like drawing the knife back from a wound, Oscar felt his abused membranes, wrapped too tightly around Kaathe to resist, begin to pull out with him. His body resisted, despite Oscar knowing full well there was nothing he could do, clenching down as best it could. The spines along Kaathe’s girth dragged against him, burning and stinging, and all he could do was try to keep sane, mouth gaping and wet. Once, the shock would have resolved itself in a swoon, his heart too taxed to continue, allowing him peace in unconsciousness, but decades of hardship and war had steeled him. In battle, the resistance he had built to pain and anguish was a boon entirely, saving him from death, from loss of self, until he felt the last time he had died was long enough in his past to almost forget, but now it was his hell.

Just as he had not fully fit in, Kaathe did not fully pull out, only undulating his coils enough to simulate the friction of thrusting. Oscar’s head lolled, all the strength he had drained by his involuntary straining against the massive cock that beat against his insides. His womb was battered repeatedly into his long unused organs, the space that would have once held food, waste, all the peculiarities of a living body, now unnaturally empty enough to allow his gut to be pounded into a cavern for the express purpose of housing the primordial phallus. A thick lather of slickness dripped out between them, squelching loudly despite the way the darkness ate all other sound. It was all Oscar could hear, aside from his own wheezing gasps; the obscene slide of skin to scale, wet and unmistakably sexual, and he was hit with a sudden pang of shame, not only for what was being done to him but for his own hand in allowing it. He was the one who had sought Dark, when the other Undead from the asylum had chosen the way of Fire. He was the one who had knelt before the Darkstalker, who had begged for meaning.

He was not sure what he believed now. There was agony in the path of the Gods, but it was had for Oscar to quantify the centuries of servitude and slow, quiet suffering against the current violence he was enmeshed with. He could hardly think at all.

“You will become accustomed to your position, my Lord,” Kaathe said, reading his thoughts, his movements, or perhaps he had screamed some combination of pleas that expressed the sentiment. His blood was so loud in his ears, and his mouth so dry, that Oscar genuinely did not know.

“Yes, it is indeed painful, but you bear it well. Your body will come to accept and welcome this, your burden, so that you too will see the beauty in it, and what you shall create from it.”

How this could create anything, Oscar could not imagine. His cervix was again smashed into his body with another forceful thrust, and his cunt spurted a clear stream of liquid, almost as if he were pissing. The sensation was usually associated with pleasure, but Oscar could barely comprehend what he was feeling anymore. As Kaathe dragged out, he squirted again, in little, bucking spasms as his body seized. Something must have been broken, inside him. The pain should have him sobbing. He was nearly turned inside-out, but his head was spinning, and Kaathe was sinking in deeper each time, his shape and texture visible beneath Oscar’s toned stomach, and he wasn’t Hollowing somehow.

“Good, good,” Kaathe rumbled, and Oscar realized he had cum, somehow, that Kaathe had made him cum as if this were real sex and not the blasphemy it had to be. He should be dead.

Kaathe’s second cock had grown along with the one inside him, and as he rode the undulating opening of his vent it bobbed against him, letting Oscar see the grotesque form that dug him out in the mirror of its twin. By now it was as high as his chest. That could not be right, he thought, almost removed from himself by horror. He could never have something so large inside him, even if it did not penetrate to the hilt. Kaathe pushed in and held a moment, grinding against his pelvis, and Oscar groaned horribly. He had meant to say something, repeat what he had wept before, that he was not worthy, that he would die, _no, please, I cannot bear it-!_ But all that he did was make that sound, that moaning cry like an animal giving birth.

“There, you have calmed. I knew you would. Have faith, my Lord.”

The coils around his arms loosened, and Oscar fell forward, onto Kaathe’s second cock, which he instinctively clutched onto. Pins and needles were in his veins, his muscles stiff and sleepy after having been restrained so long, and with so much blood leaving them for his cunt. The movement also shifted the way Kaathe breached him, though so little of him felt untouched by now, half held upright on the cock alone. Oscar wrapped his arms around Kaathe’s remaining dick, even as it left long streaks of slime along his chest and distended belly, dripping along the cleft of his pectorals, stinging his nipples into peaks. He needed something to hold on to. Everything ached.

His thighs were still wrapped tightly, and that was enough to hold him in place for Kaathe to fuck. The strength of the serpent was so great, so encompassing, that Oscar briefly managed to wonder why humanity was needed by this beast at all. Then another thrust removed all thought from him. A hand fell between his thighs, to steady himself, or push away, something, but instead Oscar felt his fingers brush his swollen vulva. Kaathe was sliding in and out, his labia spread wide, throbbing, and he felt it, looked down between the dick he hugged and his chest in terrified awe at how his pink cunt dragged out a little with each egress. It was disgusting, his body, what it was doing. His clit was hard, jutting down where it had been pulled by his distorted vagina, pulsing visibly.

“Give in, Lord of Hollows.” 

Oscar rubbed at the lips of his cunt tenderly, as if soothing a bruise.

“It hurts,” he managed, but he was no longer sure what he meant by that. Kaathe growled strangely, and it vibrated through him, made his pussy jump.

“Change cannot be comfortable, by nature,” he said, “but it is necessary.”

Oscar dug the fingers of his other hand into the meat of Kaathe’s dick, not out of spite, hard and unrelenting as he felt another buck crush his organs, but the skin did not bend, nor break, and Kaathe did not react, as if he felt nothing. He fumbled his fingers around his clit just as a particularly smooth thrust caught him off guard, ground a cluster of lumps and spines inside him into just the right spot, and he squirted again, shaking. He was drooling, eyes unfocused, hurting, cumming.

Perhaps this was the eventuality of what he had become, all the violence that had been done to him over these long years Undead. He was displaced, inhuman, but not Hollow. Miserably, Oscar stroked his clit, the rough pads of his fingers rolling the head between them in a manner harsh and uncoordinated, pleasure lancing up his spine hard enough to make him jerk in Kaathe’s hold as if electrified. The Lord of all Humans, who would bring them back from the edge of the flame. If he survived this, it would be worth it. His guts felt liquefied, beaten to pulp, his muscles likely torn from the stress, but Kaathe was moving faster now, raking him out, wringing a gush of fluid from him each time he was filled again. Flexing his thighs in time to the rhythm, Oscar was almost able to simulate riding him. He was flexible, but having been sat so wide, with his pelvis nearly crushed, had his hips aching.

“Prepare thyself.”

There was no possible way for him to do so. Oscar gagged, pulling fiercely at his clit, and then the base of Kaathe’s cock began to swell. He could hardly stretch any further, and Oscar groaned wetly as the bulge moved up through the length, inside him. He clenched shudderingly around it, as if he could push it back out, but it was too late, rubbing him wide until it reached the end of Kaathe’s cock and, with agonizing force, Kaathe came. Oscar screamed because it burned like nothing else had before, a cold burn, the way it felt to touch solid ice. He was already overfull, but Kaathe’s girth kept him plugged, so the jism could only balloon him out further. He left his clit to grasp the bulge in his gut, gasping and crying as his womb, which had been battered flat, was suddenly filled.

Spurt after spurt of thick, heavy spunk was pumped into him, each one rolling up Kaathe’s cock in the same manner, pushing him out rhythmically. Oscar orgasmed again, kicking out his heels with what little range he was allowed, throbbing even as the pain of being stuffed further made him gag, his stomach compressed to the point that the phantom feeling of needing to vomit consumed him despite having been empty and unused for decades.

“Take it out!” he blubbered, shaking his head back and fourth. He could not manage to say more. He was going to pop like a tick.

“Not yet,” said Kaathe, and Oscar bent forward as much and he could and dry heaved, his cunt rolling with continuous shocks as he continued to cum. Something was wrong with him, none of this should have felt good, but every pulse of seed blinded him with another wave of pleasure. The skin of his sides felt as if it would tear, no matter how he tried to hold himself together. Not for the first time, Oscar was sure he would die. Even after the last gush of cum had been spent, Kaathe held him fast, keeping him full and sealed. Lolling on his cock like a puppet, Oscar was wracked with pain.

“Take it out,” he begged again, not as aggressive but no less desperate, “Please, I, I am so full.”

“Let it take,” Kaathe rumbled. Oscar did not calm, especially when Kaathe’s face loomed in from the darkness at his side. Up close, the scaled flesh of his visage was no less unsettling, one great, reptilian eye blinking in multitudes of layered lids by his head. His grinning mouth split, wafting a stinking cloud over Oscar, and for a moment he believed that maybe even after all this he had failed somehow and was to be devoured, permanently. Then, Kaathe’s tongue slid out, a pink appendage more human than snake, and laved against his body.

Oscar was pushed back by the muscle, into waiting coils that kept him propped upright. While hunching over his stomach had mitigated the pain some, it also increased the pressure, and leaning in the opposite direction allowed him some extra room at the expense of shifting everything inside him once again. He groaned, looking down at the bloated swell of his stomach, and then Kaathe licked him again, this time with slow care, and Oscar’s head fell back in an anguished moan. Unlike his seed, his tongue was as hot and living as a thing could be, questing about the point where they were connected, Oscar’s over-stretched vagina, rolling over his clit, then up the bump of his gut, to his chest, where his nipples pointed erect. The serpent repeated the action, soothing his tortured flesh even as he added to the sensations. Oscar raised his arms to defend himself but found them almost too heavy too lift, exhausted by his ordeal, and all he could manage to do with them was to cover his face, retain that last bit of dignity as he continued to be lapped at, jerking and moaning.

He had nearly cum again when Kaathe stopped.

“There,” he said, close and deep enough that Oscar’s bones vibrated.

“Wait,” Oscar murmured, but Kaathe was already beginning to pull out. Oscar was so tightly wrapped around him that to prevent causing massive damage he had to move slowly, resulting in a torturous drag along his insides, each spine and nodule, intended to keep his mate fastened to him, clinging to the delicate membrane. Oscar writhed, having almost forgotten the feeling of being vacated during the time he was left plugged, reaching down and grabbing his clitcock again because he was so close and in so much pain.

With the shameless need of a Hollow, he jerked at himself as Kaathe slowly left him, his organs dropping back into their proper positions in a nauseating lurch. All he wanted was for it to end, even as he rubbed at himself, panting openly. The flared head of Kaathe’s cock caught against the muscles at the mouth of his cunt, still entirely too big, and Oscar whined, watching his hole deform outward.

He came when it popped free, unleashing a torrent of trapped fluid. The size of him had pulled the mouth of Oscar’s cervix to the front, almost fully out of his vagina, so that it was visible as it burst with Kaathe’s semen, which poured out of him with such force that it almost felt as if he was being fucked in reverse. Having already cum so many times, Oscar could hardly keep his eyes open through his pleasure, hoarsely barking a sound of grief and falling back into Kaathe’s coils. He tried to close his legs but could not, unable to stem the tide as his abused cunt pushed out everything it could. It felt strange to be empty now, like he had been hollowed out and would never return to normal. The delicate insides of his sex hadn’t been this exposed before, twitching in the cold air.

Kaathe’s hold on him relaxed, though Oscar was barely aware of it. With a gentleness that seemed impossible for a creature of his size, he lowered the knight to the tar of the Abyss. However, he was received not by the ground, but by hands. Darkwraiths, a whole host of them, took his limp body into their arms. Oscar stared at them through unfocused eyes, body still kicking every few seconds as aftershocks of his abuse skittered through his nerves. They cradled him gently, staring down at him with the empty eyes of their masks. One of them pressed two fingers to his still drooling womb and pushed it back into place inside, causing him to cry out raggedly.

“See to it that he is cared for,” Kaathe said.

“It will be apparent soon if the seed has taken. He must remain strong, for the child of our new world.”

The threat inherent was that if he did not become pregnant, they would have to repeat the process. Despite the way it turned his stomach, Oscar could not find it within himself to muster fear again, so close to the edge of sleep. The Darkwraiths bowed low, swiftly moving him away into the dark. They moved so smoothly that Oscar could almost imagine he was carried by waves upon the sea. Their hands moved all over him, stroking his wounds, easing the ache in his muscles from where Kaathe had carved him open, petting his sore and swollen pussy. They were his subjects now, Oscar realized. They were worshiping. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touches, accepting it. _Our Dark Lord._

He would be worthy, this time.


End file.
